


seasons change

by rocketsfindplanets



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018 World Juniors, Feelings, M/M, World Juniors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 02:45:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13308768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketsfindplanets/pseuds/rocketsfindplanets
Summary: Things change quickly when it comes to hockey, and nobody knows that better than Michael McLeod.





	seasons change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [preciousthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciousthings/gifts).



> Lots of untagged characters, some untagged Raddysh/Stephens, implied Clague/Makar.. who fucking knows. It's WJC, yo.

_You know, when people change_  
_They gain a peace, but they lose one too_

 

 

 

 

 

On December 14, 2016, Nathan Bastian tweets, “So happy for my man @MikeyMcLeod9 ... what are you going to do without him on Christmas @McleodJudi !!!!”

In December of 2017… well, in all fairness, he still retweets a picture of Mikey, so it’s not like he’s totally abandoned him. But there’s no public congratulations on making the team again, and Mikey pouts over it for way longer than is appropriate. Nate snaps him and texts him and does just about everything else, but he doesn’t tweet about it, and Mikey can already tell that this year is going to be different.

Some things are the same. Dube is named captain which means their captain is still named Dillon (even if it’s, as Strome explained to him, the inferior spelling). A few other players from 2017 are there. Taylor, Carter, Jake, Dante, Kale. (There are two Kales, now, but that might get into a whole other thing about spelling names that Mikey wants nothing to do with.)

It’s still a good group of guys, and a good group of hockey players. But it’s different. Which, duh.

Mikey hopes different means playing for the gold medal and winning. In regulation, preferably. He’s not _too_ picky, so he’ll take overtime or a shootout, but he’s still crossing his fingers.

He doesn’t tweet about making the team, either, so he can’t really blame Nate. Except that also means he can _especially_ blame Nate, because Nate isn’t around to post for him.

He wonders, idly, if Nate is going to change his Twitter bio eventually, because right now it still says, _Social Advisor for Michael McLeod_ , and if Mikey’s lack of meaningful posts recently is anything to judge by, that is no longer necessarily true.

Maybe Nate would still do it for him, if he asked. Like a long-distance relationship, with a lot more Twitter and a lot less relationship. Mikey makes a mental note to ask him. _After_ World Juniors, of course, because for now, he has a gold medal to win. In regulation.

They all arrive, and things are different. But they’re also all Canadian teenage boys, so how horrible can it really be? They get each other, and Dillon Dube is a fucking amazing captain, so he manages to work it out so that the first day they arrive in Buffalo, all sort of tired and at an hour that was getting pretty late anyway, they just get some alone time.

(Or, as close to alone time as you can get when you have a roommate. Mikey doesn’t mind.)

“Clouder, what is up?”

Mikey grins, puts his bag down on the unoccupied bed, then immediately goes over to Taylor for a very bro-like hug, complete with back claps and everything. It’s good, and it’s normal, and for the first time since the roster was announced, Mikey breathes.

 

 

 

 

 

He doesn’t even make it past the first day before he decides that Taylor Raddysh is some sort of miracle-worker, because he already has fucking booze, and yeah, this is gonna be good.

They decide to host a mini party for all of the guys who are returning, except Carter is still traumatised after the incident last year, and Dillon is maybe too good of a captain, and when everything is said and done, the party consists of Jake hanging out with Mikey and Taylor in their room while Mikey whines about everything that’s different from last year. Some fucking party.

“And I mean, like… Dillon is great, he’s great, but I miss Dylan, you know?” Mikey pauses, trying to figure out if his words are making sense. “Dylan would be in here with us. Hell, he would have probably beaten Taylor to the alcohol.”

“At least this time there will be no goalies getting thrown up on?” Jake offers, and Mikey and Taylor both laugh.

“I’m sure Strome didn’t _mean_ to,” Mikey insists, and Taylor just laughs harder.

“He acts so tough and like he likes to party so much— which, he does— but he literally did that all the time in Erie, okay? McDavid and I had to carry his drunk ass home way too many times.”

And McDavid’s not in Erie anymore, and neither is Strome, and wow, things change quickly when it comes to hockey.

He snaps Nate a picture of the three of them, later, after he’s opened another beer. (He’s maybe lost count of how many.)

 _party in buffalo_ he captions it, with a bunch of party emojis, and then some heart emojis, and then a hockey stick and a Canadian flag just because.

_and you didn’t invite me?? :(_

_drive down to buffalo and you can come_

He gets a picture from Nate, after that, a dark, grainy picture of him lying in bed, that says _sry, date with my bed_. It’s so _soft_ , and so Nate, and maybe it’s just the alcohol, but part of Mikey wants to be there and part of him wants to cry.

Taylor pokes Mikey with his foot, and rolls his eyes when Mikey looks up. “Your phone more exciting then us?”

“Shut up, you know I’m on Snapchat, I _just_ took a picture of us.”

“Who ya talking to?” Jake asks.

“Three guesses.” Mikey cringes as soon as he says it, but Taylor nods, understanding.

“Binghamton is pretty close,” Taylor sings, and Mikey immediately wants to hit him with a pillow, but he doesn’t already have one and reaching onto his bed to grab his sounds infinitely too difficult. He settles on letting out a huff of air and crossing his arms instead.

Because Binghamton _is_ close, but not _that_ close, and the last thing he needs to be thinking about is how close he is to Nathan Bastian.

“Don’t let him act all high and mighty,” Jake laughs. “You think Taylor isn’t gonna be spending the entire competition sending sappy shit to Mitchell?”

Taylor does have a pillow, and he promptly hits Jake with it, resulting in two things.

First off, Mikey cannot stop fucking laughing. He missed this a lot, and it’s not like he doesn’t have this sort of camaraderie with his teammates back in Mississauga, but these are his guys too, and seeing Jake Bean get hit with a pillow will never not be funny, especially when he looks so shocked and betrayed afterward.

Secondly, Jake spills his beer all over himself, which really just makes Mikey laugh harder.

Jake looks absolutely appalled, except he’s laughing, too, so it can’t be too bad.

Mikey sends a video of it to Nate.

Nate sends back a picture of him with his tongue sticking out, which says, _looks like ur having fun?_

And Mikey smiles, because yeah, he is.

 

 

 

 

 

They start their day at the rink, which is unsurprising. Instead of actually practicing, though, they get filmed doing drills and explaining the drills, and god, there are so many commercials they have to film.

There is an actual practice, after that, but it’s pretty relaxing, everybody still loose and not necessarily stressing over the competition, yet.

After practice there’s more promotional stuff, which somehow leads to some of the guys getting dragged off to play table tennis. Mikey and Taylor both manage to get out of it, and head back to their room.

They order super unhealthy room service and settle into for a Chopped marathon, and everything seems good with the world. (They’ll work out together later, but right now, that girl needs to hurry the fuck up or she’s never going to get her food plated properly.)

The first thing Jake says when he comes into the room is, “49-1. I’m never playing table tennis again in my life.”

Mikey kind of wants to watch the rest of this episode, but he pauses it and turns to Jake instead, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you have your own hotel room to be angsty in?”

Jake closes the door and sits down on the couch with a sigh. “I can’t go there right now,” he says simply, and they both know better than to question it.

“Well, welcome to Chopped with Ted Allen,” Taylor offers, grinning. “Hope you like cooking shows.”

“I’m up for whatever, honestly,” Jake agrees, shrugging. He quickly adds, “As long as it’s not table tennis.”

Taylor laughs. “What the fuck happened, man?”

“I got my ass kicked,” Jake says earnestly.

“By who?” Mikey asks, wanting to know who got Jake so down so he can high five them later.

Jake smiles and shakes his head. “Not anybody on the team, they made me play, like, an actual player, and it sucked. And for the record, I did at least get to kick Clague’s ass.”

And Clague is his roommate, and honestly, Mikey would really rather not know. (Until later, of course, when it’s been long enough that they can properly gossip about it.) All of those dub guys are weird, anyway.

So he unpauses Chopped instead, and pretends not to notice how Jake is still smiling to himself.

 

 

 

 

 

Okay, so something is, like, definitely wrong with Jake.

He and Mikey and Taylor did eventually go work out together, just some sort of light stuff, to try to keep fit amidst their eating junk food 24/7. Then Jake went back to his hotel room, and they all sort of figured everything was back to normal.

But no, days have passed without anything too strange, and now Jake looks kind of fucking traumatised at breakfast, and Mikey is just staring at him.

“Earth to Jake?”

Jake looks up at him, and if Mikey wasn’t really feeling this bacon, he probably would have tried to awkwardly hug him over the table.

“Okay, we’re talking after breakfast,” he declares. Jake nods, and they both go back to eating.

Mikey is kind of expecting Taylor to join them, since they’re basically an unofficial squad at this point, but he never sees him come down.

Maybe it shouldn’t be too surprising. Mikey had woken up to Taylor’s voice, talking on the phone to somebody who was, most likely, named Mitchell Stephens, if he had to guess.

They finish breakfast ( _team_ breakfast) without Taylor, and Mikey kind of just forgets about it. He’s happy that Taylor is happy, and he’s sure the others would be, too, if they knew. But for now, he pulls Jake aside in the lobby, and stares at him.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on, because it looks like somebody killed your dog or something.”

Jake looks up at Mikey like he’s stupid. “Haven’t you seen the video?” he asks.

Mikey shakes his head slowly. “No?”

This leads to Jake pulling out his phone and opening some video for Mikey. “What’s it like being named after me?” Kale asks on the screen, and Mikey watches like, a two minute video about Kale and Cale and a little bit about Jake that clears up just about nothing.

“Okay…?”

All Mikey sees is that the three defensemen are getting along well, and he honestly had no idea what he’s missing. Jake’s been acting kind of weird all tournament, really, and this just adds to it.

“Don’t you see?” Mikey doesn’t get the chance to respond before Jake keeps talking. “They really like each other.”

Oh. Oh.

 _Oh_.

In hindsight, Mikey feels pretty stupid. “Clague?” he asks, and Jake nods. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Mikey furrows his brow, trying to think. “Are they, like…?”

“I don’t think so? But I don’t know.”

That’s not too much of a surprise. After all, despite the fact that Kale Clague is his roommate, Jake probably hasn’t seen a lot of him, considering how much time he’s been spending with Mikey and Taylor. “Dude, you really need to talk to him.”

“There’s no way.”

“This is going to kill you if you’re like this the whole tournament.”

Jake is obviously competent enough to push that shit aside, but Mikey _knows_ it’s gonna bother him all tournament, because last year he was on a team with Taylor Raddysh and Mitchell Stephens, and…

“Seriously, Jake, remember Taylor last year?” he asks, and yeah, they definitely both remember.

It’s different, though, and he knows it. Taylor and Mitchell had basically been all over each other all tournament before they got together.

“Okay, first off, was this a thing last year?”

If it was, Mikey had totally missed it. Jake kind of hesitates before he answers, “No? I mean, not this much. He just…” Jake sighed. “I didn’t think it was a big deal, but now it is a big deal, and I really like him.”

“Distressed doesn’t really suit you, you know?” Mikey says after a moment of thought.

Jake smiles, a little bit, and that’s a good start.

“Lunch with me and Taylor today, okay? And then we can work on getting you your man.”

“You’re the best, Mikey,” Jake laughs, and Mikey walks with him to the elevator. They don’t have practice, but he’s pretty sure they’re all getting a little bit worked up over the idea of the tournament starting. Jake definitely doesn’t need to be stressing about Kale on top of all of that.

Dillon is already waiting there and he steps in with the two of them. They’re all kind of blocked out in the same area of the hotel, so when Dillon clicks the button for his floor, Mikey doesn’t have to do anymore work.

“What you up to today?” Mikey asks, curiously, looking over at Dillon. Their captain is kind of staring at Jake with an expression Mikey can’t hope to understand, and he wishes he could ask about it.

Dillon shrugs. “Not much, probably,” he admits. “Go out on a run, video games, try to make sure nobody’s freaking out too much.”

“Makes sense.”

When the elevator stops, Dillon glances at Jake again. “My door’s always open if you guys need anything,” he reminds them before stepping out and heading toward his own room.

Mikey watches him go for a beat too long before following Jake out the door.

“So lunch, yeah? Any plans until then?” Jake asks.

Mikey thinks about it. “Jordan and I were kind of thinking about going to the pool.”

Jake nods. “Sick. Mind if I join you? I don’t really want to, um…”

He smiles sympathetically and says, “Yeah, for sure,” without Jake having to finish. He offers him an only slightly awkward pat on the back then heads toward his own room.

When he opens the door, Taylor is lying in bed, doing something on his phone and smiling like an idiot. He looks up when Mikey comes in, but quickly returns his attention to his phone.

“You’re totally gonna get grilled later for not being at breakfast,” Mikey says nonchalantly as he looks in the mirror, trying to fix his hair a bit.

Taylor looks back up at him, a bit concerned. “Seriously?”

“I covered for you and said you weren’t feeling too hot.” He shrugs.

“Hopefully you said I’m still well enough to play?”

“They’ll check on you,” he laughs. “Don’t worry, you’re not too sick.”

“Perfect.” And just like that, Taylor goes back to his phone. Mikey rolls his eyes and sits down on his bed to check his own phone.

The Canada group chat is buzzing, which is kind of dumb, because they were all just together for breakfast. He ignores it in favour of Nate’s good morning text.

 _rise and shine, michael. one day left, hype?_ it reads, and Mikey smiles, immediately texting back.

_hell yes. bringing home the gold for you this time_

And after that he resigns himself to checking the group chat, if only so that he doesn’t miss a million references to it later.

It’s more or less the typical, the guys chirping each other, chirping the other teams, sending memes, being dumb in general. A few guys are planning to go see a movie or something, and he’s glad to see that everybody’s at least trying to relax.

 _pool?_ he texts Jordan.

_Hell yes_

Mikey puts his phone down and tugs his shirt off, tossing it onto his bed. “We’re going out to lunch later, by the way,” he says. “With Jake.”

“Sure.”

“Very important, you have to come.”

Taylor squints at him and Mikey laughs. “Don’t worry about it too much, you’ll see.”

He seems content enough with that so Mikey goes to change into swim trunks real quick, and throws on some flip flops. “I’ll be back at some point, don’t have too much fun without me.”

“No promises,” Taylor says, and like that, Mikey is gone.

 

 

Mikey doesn't bring his phone with him, mostly because he forgets to grab anything on his way out, but Jake makes sure all of his dumb shit still gets documented on camera. He takes pictures and videos of his water gun fight in the pool with Jordan (because maybe he forgot to grab anything but Jordan Kyrou is a fucking saviour), and of how Mikey won't stop getting in Jordan's face pretending to try to kiss him.

They all have fun, a lot of fun, and by the time Mikey is grabbing a towel and attempting to dry off his hair, Jake is asking Jordan to come to lunch with them. It's kind of surprising, but Mikey is okay with it, and obviously Jake is okay with it, so it's settled.

 

 

 

 

 

“So Jake here is, like, totally fucked up over one Kale Clague, and we definitely need to get them together.”

Taylor stares, unimpressed, at Jake, and Mikey chokes back a laugh.

“Ask him out,” Taylor offers, and Mikey has to keep himself from laughing again.

Mikey and Jordan are on one side of the booth, leaving Jake and Taylor on the other, and Taylor is just sort of staring Jake down, and Mikey thanks god he’s never had to be in that position.

“Just… ask him out?” Jake echoes.

Mikey grins over at Jordan, who grins back.

“I think it’s for the best,” Jordan agrees. Then he quickly adds, “After the tournament, probably.”

Taylor nods. “After the tournament is good. Trust me, it always works out.”

Just then, Mikey hears their number, and he hops to his feet, smiling. “I’ll be right back, boys,” he promises with a wink before walking over to retrieve their tray of food. He slides it onto the table when he returns and promptly takes his seat again.

Being who they all are, the four of them have ordered as close to a literal mountain of french fries and chicken nuggets as the local Buffalo McDonald’s has to offer.

Mikey slings an arm around Jordan’s shoulder and starts up a video on Snapchat, focusing it on the two of them for a second or two before switching to his other camera to show off their food, and also Jake and Taylor. He captions it _date_ with a bunch of heart emojis then sends it to Nate.

The guys kick up some other conversational topic but Mikey’s attention is quickly taken up by a message back from Nate.

_?????????????????????????????????????????_

_what_ Mikey responds, taking a small handful of french fries.

 _take a guy on a date and you can’t do better than mcd’s??_ Nate sends, and then, _so u and kyrou huh?_

And okay, shit. Mikey starts laughing out loud, setting his phone down on the table.

“Dude, what’s so funny?” Taylor asks, reaching over the food to try to grab Mikey’s phone, but Mikey quickly snatches it away.

“Nothing!” he laughs. “Just, I think Nate thinks I’m, like, dating Jordan.”

“Well, I think Jordan thinks you’re, like, dating Nate,” Taylor is quick to quip.

Mikey can feel his face going red as he quickly shakes his head. “Shut up.”

“He’s not necessarily wrong.” Jordan grins, playfully elbowing him. “I know you’re not now, but I definitely used to.”

He’s pretty sure they’re supposed to be talking about Jake’s love life, and he doesn’t really like where this conversation is going. “He doesn’t… it’s not like that.” When nobody responds, he quickly continues, “I promise, he’s not into me.”

“Dude.” It’s Jake, this time. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Ask him out,” Taylor says, and Mikey just glares.

“It’s not the same thing!” he protests, picking his phone back up.

_mikey that’s totally ok shit i just didn’t know_

_you can trust me :(_

He stares at all of the messages from Nate, and before he knows it, his phone is in Jordan’s hand. Mikey immediately tries to grab for it again, but the three of them all seem to be against him.

By the time he has it back, Jordan has already typed out and sent a message and god, Mikey is going to fucking _kill_ him.

_No nate there’s only u i promise_

“Fuck all of you,” Mikey declared, unable to will the blush off of his cheeks.

_shit that wasn’t me that was jordan_

Then he thinks about how that sounds, Jordan having his phone, and Mikey really wishes he could crawl into a hole and die, or something just as dramatic.

_call me?_

When Nate answers, his heart drops.

_it’s ok. ttyl_

Mikey shoves his phone into his pocket and sulks, shoving more french fries than appropriate into his face. “Fuck. You,” he says again around the fries, looking at Jordan this time.

Jordan laughs and pats him on the back. “Guys, Mikey is definitely fucked up over Nate,” he says, tone a bit mocking, and Mikey wishes he had never planned this. “So by the end of this tournament, three things are gonna happen. We’re all gonna be wearing gold fucking medals, Jake is gonna have Kale, and Mikey is gonna have Nate. Sound like a plan?”

“Four things,” Taylor interjects. At Jordan’s questioning look, he grins and continues, “We’re gonna get drunk as fuck.”

 

 

 

 

 

Canada wins their first two games, and everything feels fucking perfect.

Mikey kind of forgets about the whole thing with Nate, Taylor is still doing his weird sappy shit with Mitchell, and Jake can go into his own hotel room without having an actual heart attack.

Then they lose to the U.S., which, whatever. It’s not like it’s a huge deal. They’re moving on either way. It’s fine. They beat Denmark, too, so they’re winning the group regardless of how the other games go, and yeah, it’s pretty fucking great.

On their day off before quarterfinals they still have practice, and Mikey walks into the locker room with Taylor, feeling about as hyped up as possible.

“I’m skyping Mitchell tonight so you better not be busy. He misses you too, you know,” Taylor says offhandedly, glancing over at Mikey.

“Yeah, sure. Does he have a game tonight?”

Following hockey outside of World Juniors has kind of fallen to the back of Mikey’s mind, other than checking OHL scores every night. Taylor looks at him like he’s crazy. “Yes?”

“Okay, okay, jeez.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry that the AHL isn’t the most important thing to me right now?”

“ _Seriously?_ ”

“Oh my god Taylor, what?”

“They’re in fucking Binghamton? You know, Binghamton, New York, home of the Binghamton Devils? Ring any bells?”

Mikey slips off his jacket, frowning. “I guess.”

And Taylor is just fucking staring in that _Taylor_ way, and he’s pretty sure people are noticing, and Mikey really, really, wishes that this didn’t have to be a _thing_.

“You guess?”

“We’re not really talking right now, just drop it. I’d be happy to talk to Mitchell, okay?”

With that, Mikey starts to ignore Taylor in favour of getting ready for practice. He has way more important things to worry about, like making sure they beat Switzerland.

 

 

 

 

 

The Devils get their asses handed to them, and Mikey tries not to care too much. He wouldn’t have even known they were playing if it hadn’t been for Taylor, so it doesn’t matter.

It’s probably for the best, anyway, considering that Mitchell Stephens definitely plays for Syracuse, and that’s who they’re talking to. Not Nate.

They’re not talking to Nate, and he’s not talking to Nate, and it’s fine.

 

 

“Mitch!” Taylor blows a kiss to the screen, and ew. It’s hardly a second in and Mikey’s already rethinking.

Mitchell, of course, blows one back, then looks over at Mikey curiously. “Hey, McLeod. I didn’t really think…”

He wonders immediately if this was some sort of joke from Taylor, if Stephens didn’t actually want to see him, and Mikey is _definitely_ rethinking.

The panic must be evident on his face, because Mitchell shakes his head a bit, offering a sympathetic smile. “I don’t know, I guess I thought, after Nate…”

“What about Nate?” Mikey snaps, because he’s fucking sick of hearing about him.

He gets it, now. Nate had told him once that everybody thought about him as just Mikey’s sidekick. They’ve always been together, sure, but even if this isn’t the same, he thinks he gets it. Mikey wants to just play the tournament and not have to worry about his own fucked up personal relationships.

“Just a sec, babe,” Taylor says, then grabs Mikey, opens their room door, and practically pushes him outside of it. “Dude, what the actual fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” Mikey asks, scowling. “Jesus christ, Taylor. Just, have fun with your fucking boyfriend or whatever, okay?”

He walks away, and doesn’t look back. When he finally hears the door shut, he realises he doesn’t really have anywhere to go. So he goes to the lobby and sits down in a chair, glad he has his phone and wallet and everything still in his pockets.

Is he overreacting? Sure. But Mikey thinks he’s earned that.

It’s pretty late, but not too late, and the bar is buzzing. Mikey considers trying to buy a drink, but it doesn’t seem entirely worth the possibility of getting caught, and all that. If only he was in Canada. Instead he just resigns himself to watching the news on the lobby TV.

He’s not sure when he falls asleep.

 

 

 

 

 

“Cloooooooouuuuuuuuuuuder?”

Mikey groans and slowly opens his eyes, looking up.

Jordan is in his face and Mikey winces a bit, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“What the fuck?” Mikey says, trying to piece everything together. “What fucking time is it?”

“Like, one. The hell are you doing down here?”

“What are you doing here?” He slowly stands up, remembering the argument, or whatever it had been, with Taylor.

Jordan steps back a bit to give him room.

“Uh, checking on you? Taylor said he was worried but he didn’t wanna look for you? That’s all I know, okay, and I kind of would like an explanation.”

Mikey nods, slow. “I just got upset and overreacted, okay? No big deal.”

“Right.” Jordan doesn’t look convinced. Mikey isn’t surprised.

“Man, I seriously fucked up.”

Jordan looks at him thoughtfully, nods. “Nate?”

“Yeah. Fuck.”

He sighs and and pulls Mikey into a tight hug. Mikey’s not expecting it at all, but he sinks into it after a second, pressing his face into Jordan’s shoulder.

“Text him, okay? I’m sure he misses you, too.”

“I’m pretty sure he still thinks we’re fucking, so I dunno about that.”

Jordan bites back a laugh, stepping back to look Mikey in the eyes. “I’ll text him too, then, okay? You’re seriously letting this get to you, and I don’t want anything dumb distracting you from helping us take home the gold, got it?”

Mikey has to stop himself from commenting that he’s pretty sure they could win gold without him. They’re a team, and that’s probably not the best mentality to have. He’s just kind of fucked up about everything, right now.

“For sure. Thanks, Jordan.”

“Anytime. Now come on, we all need to get some fucking sleep or coach is gonna kill us.”

Mikey laughs, because he’s right. “Yeah. You’re right.”

He follows Jordan to the elevator, and wonders if texting Nate at one in the morning would be dumb. Probably. He still does it, after Jordan’s in his room and he’s heading to his own.

_sorry if i fucked stuff up between us. we’re chill right? idk if it matters to u but like, legit, nothing between me and kyrou, at all. my love is only for you, baby :*_

It’s meant as a joke. Mikey’s heart still hurts, though, wanting everything he can’t have.

He only realises when he’s at his room that he doesn’t have a room key.

 _taylor open the door_ he texts, and thank god, within seconds Taylor is opening the door. He doesn’t move out of the way to let Mikey in, though.

“You gonna freak out on me again?”

Mikey offers a tired smile. “No freaking out here, promise.”

“Okay.” Taylor slowly steps aside. “And for the record? I don’t think Mitch knows anything about what the fuck is going on between you and Nate. He told me Nate got hurt, he thought you’d be talking to him.”

And if Mikey had thought he was panicking before, he doesn’t know how to describe the worry bubbling up inside of him now. “Hurt…?” he echoes. “Like… bad?”

Taylor shrugs and sit back down on his bed. “It’s kinda hard to follow shit that happens in the AHL, you know? He left the game second period and didn’t come back, that’s all I got.”

Mikey is quiet for a long moment, before he says, “Oh,” mostly because he doesn’t know what else there is to say. Nate is hurt, Nate is hurt, Nate is hurt. He texts Nate again, because the last one suddenly doesn’t seem good enough.

_shit raddy just said you’re hurt please be okay???? i’m sorry ok i get if u don’t want to talk to me but please be okay_

_love u_

Then Mikey finally moves from the doorway, gently shutting the door before going over to his own bed and sitting down. He slips his shoes off, plugs his phone in, and curls up just like that, not sure he has the energy for anything else. He may have just slept for a bit, but that took a lot out of him.

This time, when he falls asleep, he feels just as bad.

 

 

When Mikey wakes up, he has a few texts, but only one that’s particularly important.

_we’re definitely chill, i figured u didn’t want to talk to me? but i’m glad you do :) don’t worry, just my leg, should only be a few days. love u 2 :*****_

Mikey smiles.

 

 

So Mikey is talking to Nate, and everything is so much better than fine. And also he’s still kind of calling Nate babe and baby and everything else, which he’s kind of freaking out about, but whatever. He can freak out about it for real after World Juniors.

At breakfast, they’re all joking around like everything is okay, which it is. Life is great, Mikey thinks.

 

 

 

 

 

“He _kissed_ him. Like, seriously, 100%, kissed him. On the lips.”

Mikey pats his hair affectionately. He gets it. He knows how it feels to like somebody you can’t have.

The guys have been celebrating their quarterfinal win, and Jake had been happily taking part in that, for a while. His sudden appearance had been extremely confusing, but it made a lot of sense, now. Walking in on your crush kissing Cale Makar isn’t easy.

That doesn’t mean Mikey knows what to do about it.

“Well,” he says. “It’s like that, sometimes, you know? You’ll find somebody.”

Mikey holds Jake and Jordan comes close, too. Taylor is just kind of sitting back, away, because he can’t exactly relate. Lucky bastard. Mikey can taste jealousy in his mouth, stronger than ever before. Taylor takes it for granted, he thinks. The rest of them don’t have that luxury.

(He doesn’t know about Jordan, actually. All he knows is that Jordan is, without a doubt, not dating him.)

They don’t speak again for a while, after that, none of them. If Mikey knew how to mend a broken heart, he would have done it to himself by now.

 

 

 

 

 

They have a day off, which means a day full of getting ready for the Czech Republic. But it also means a day of hanging out with the team and personal shit that doesn’t have anything to do with the Czech Republic, which is significantly more difficult.

Jake is back to avoiding the fuck out of Kale off the ice, which makes things extremely awkward on the ice, and everybody notices it, players and coaches alike. Mikey can see Jake getting talked to and he feels a little bit bad.

He deserves a break, but they can’t exactly afford to give him one. It’s tough, but it’s hockey. It’s win and they get at least silver. If Mikey can deal with his feelings later, so can Jake.

 

 

“Are you and Makar dating?”

Kale looks absolutely shocked by how blunt Mikey is about it, but Mikey doesn’t really know how else to go about it. They’re alone in the locker room, so it’s not like anybody else can hear.

“No? What the fuck?”

Mikey nods thoughtfully. “Okay.”

Kale blinks, frowning a little bit. “What even makes you say that?”

“Jake says the two of you kissed, and I dunno, you seem pretty close.”

He watches the colour drain out of Kale’s face. “Last night?” When Mikey nods, he groans, covering up his face. “We were playing fucking truth or dare, Mikey. _Truth or dare_.”

Mikey has to process that for a long moment, and after he does, he can’t help but to burst out laughing. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No! What’s so funny?”

He pats Kale on the back, shaking his head. “You definitely did not hear this from me, but Jake’s been swooning over you all tournament.”

Kale’s face, after that, is an emotional journey. “Jake Bean?” he asks, and Mikey laughs again.

“The one and only. Now hey, I gotta go. But think about it, okay? And remember, you absolutely did _not_ hear this from me!”

 

 

 

 

 

They’re going to fucking _finals_.

Mikey is low-key glad they don’t have to play against the U.S.A. again, because that would have brought with it memories that Mikey would rather not think about.

He calls Nate because Taylor’s not in the room, feeling happier than he knows what to do with.

“ _Nate_ , babe, did you watch? Oh my god, we fucking won.”

Nate laughs, bright, and it pretty much makes Mikey’s entire world. He wishes he could tell him as much. “Yeah, I watched. You guys are playing so well, I’m so excited.”

“Fuck, me too.”

Mikey collapses back onto his bed, unable to wipe the grin from his face, not that he wants to. For once, literally everything seems to be going his way.

“I wish I could be there, when you win.”

Mikey does, too. He wants and he wants and he would give anything for Nate to come. It’s not like he’s too far away. Less than a state between them. It’s impossible, though, and he knows it.

“I wish you could be, too,” he sighs. “I’m gonna come see you after, okay? I promise. I told you I was bringing home a gold, and I meant it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mikey wishes he could kiss him. “I wish I could kiss you,” he says.

And it’s dumb, and he just fixed things with Nate, but god, sometimes it’s impossible to hold stuff like that in. He can imagine Nate there when (if) they win gold, kissing him, holding him, maybe draped together in a Canadian flag or some cheesy shit like that. It would be perfect, and…

“Mikey?”

Nate’s voice is small, and Mikey immediately wonders how badly he’s fucked that up.

“I think I would like that.”

Mikey’s pretty sure this is what a heart attack feels like. “You’re serious?”

“Are you?”

“Fuck yes. Oh my god, I love you.”

He feels tears in his eyes, and he’s not sure winning gold can hold a candle to this.

“Love you too, Mikey.”

 

 

 

 

 

Mikey walks in on a moment that’s very, very clearly not for him, and it’s probably the most awkward moment of his life.

And by a moment very clearly not for him, he means Kale making out with Jake. It’s not exactly like the locker room is a private space, even if the whole team was already out on the ice. Mikey had just forgotten his mouth guard, and holy fucking shit.

The two of them very clearly notice him, and Jake’s face goes red, and Kale’s does, too, but he seems a little bit more pleased. “Hey, Mikey.”

“Uh, hey.” Mikey smiles, a little bit forced, more than a little bit awkward. He’s happy, but he definitely did not want to see that. “See you guys, like, out on the ice…”

He grabs his mouth guard and goes, figuring they probably want a second of privacy. It’s not like they have long, because they’re all out on the ice warming up, and they have the most important game of their lives so far, but whatever.

Jake deserves it, and Mikey is pretty sure that this time, they can afford to give him that.

 

 

Tyler. Fucking. Steenbergen.

Mikey feels bad for all of the teasing they’ve given him about not scoring, because holy fucking shit, did he make up for it.

And then Sweden pulls their goalie, and then Formenton scores an empty-netter, and Mikey can hardly think.

 

 

The clock hits zero.

 

 

 

They’re getting fucking _gold medals_ , and Mikey can only think _holy shit, holy shit, holy shit_.

They seriously fucking did it. The team fucking did it. Fucking _gold_.

“Let’s get fucking drunk!” Taylor yells as they line up, and Mikey fucking loves him. It’s one of the happiest moments of his life, and in all honesty, it all kind of passes in a blur.

Nate texts him maybe a million times.

_MIKEY HOLY SHIT_

_GOLD_

_OH MY GOD_

_YOU DID IT_

_I LOVE YOU SO MUCH_

Mikey thinks he might be in love.

 

 

 

 

 

“Jake and Kale have literally not stopped kissing since we won, and I think it’s going to kill me. Like, god, I’m happy for Jake, but oh my _god_. It’s like Mitchell is here with Taylor all over again.”

“You think they don’t think the same thing when we’re together?”

Mikey laughs. “Shut up. They haven’t even seen us, like, _together_ together yet. If they thought it was bad then, they aren’t even ready.”

“Trust me, I know,” Nate promises. “Once you’re here, I don’t intend on letting you go that easy.”

Mikey’s heart melts. “You’re so fucking sappy.”

“And you’re not? _Babe_?”

He blushes. “You like it.”

“Damn right I do.” Nate pauses. “I have to go for a bit, okay? My leg, and all.”

“Yeah, for sure. Stay safe. Imagine I’m kissing you goodbye.”

“See? Sappy as fuck, Mikey.”

“Love you too.”

 

 

 

 

 

On January 5, 2018, Mikey McLeod posts a picture on Instagram with Jordan Kyrou and Dante Fabbro, and he captions it, “Champs.”

“Send,” he comments later, and the comments kind of blow up. It’s not like people don’t know they’re going to be drinking. He loses count of the number of, “Full send,” comments.

Maybe it was a bad idea, but Mikey isn’t the greatest at social media.

He hears allllllllllll about it from Nate. So he asks Nate, later if Nate will still do his social media for him. Like a long-distance relationship, he says. With a lot more Twitter and even more relationship.

Under his newly acquired social media advisor, he changes the caption to his post.

“Memories.”

It feels right. Maybe some of them will never play together again, but they all have gold medals and a million dumb social media posts and pictures to remember it by.

 

 

And Mikey has Nate.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a ride let me tell you! I enjoyed writing this sooooo much. And of course, our boys fucking won gold!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nothing could really top things off like that. <3 I know this isn't exactly the first thing that would come to mind considering the theme of this exchange but it really worked for me, so.. here it is.
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr @ jacklisowski !!!
> 
> Listen to seasons change - the ep [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/jq5gn535zx4aa2rjskkj5r2d0/playlist/1243stF8fCNrI1jNYBCqrb).. i.e. me thinking way too much about this fic i.e. the songs I kept listening to on loop while writing.
> 
> \- I almost wrote like, a little drabble to go with this. (And by almost, I mean I wrote like 500 words and then was like why am I doing this.) Its description was, "A year ago, a boy named Dylan threw a party." I'll leave the rest up to your imagination.
> 
> \- When Taylor yelled, "Let's get fucking drunk!" on national television I actually fucking died because there's nothing he could have done to validate my writing more than that. Thank you for making my characterisation all the more legit, Taylor.
> 
> \- Mikey goes to see Nate after this while he's still in New York. They have to be careful so it's mostly a lot of Nate sitting in Mikey's lap and cuddling. Mikey lets Nate wear his medal and takes at least a hundred pictures of him like that.
> 
> \- Kale didn't really pine over Jake like Jake pined over Kale, but at some point he definitely realised he was cute as fuck, and he decided to give it a chance. It DEFINITELY works out.
> 
> \- "And McDavid’s not in Erie anymore, and neither is Strome, and wow, things change quickly when it comes to hockey." And neither is Taylor.. ouch.
> 
> \- Nate gets better and everything is great. Still waiting on that one.
> 
> Ready for 2019, yet?


End file.
